with remembered anger. “And who was with him but Leonid, the Second Lord of the Hamrasch, so concerned at the insolence and insubordination of my delay, the very one who had brought ‘certain matters’ to my father’s attention ... All of it stupid. Contrived. It would have taken only a day to clear it up.”
But the Prince had been tired and angry and headstrong as always. “You weren’t given a day.”
He glanced up sharply. “No. It’s only my neck they want. Murdering my father as well is not going to get them anything. We don’t do things that way. Until I have a son, my heir is my father’s cousin Edik, a puling coward who makes me look scholarly and temperate. But the rest of the Denischkar would fight for him anyway, and the other hegeds would never allow old Hamrasch to say who sits the throne. It would be the end of the Hamraschi; the entire heged would die.”
But of course that was the very problem. Clearly the Hamraschi didn’t care if they died. What in the name of the gods had Aleksander done to raise a kanavar from one of the most powerful Derzhi families?
From outside the room came the droning of a mellanghar and a powerful male voice beginning the Derzhi mourning song, a winding, wordless lament that could make a mountain weep. Rage drained from the Prince’s face. He shook his head slightly and waved his hand, as if to silence his own thoughts, and then got slowly to his feet, turning his back to me. “I’ll be occupied until dawn. Come to my apartments then and we’ll talk. Be discreet, Seyonne. I’d not lose you, too.”
“My lord, I need to go ...” I’d not yet told him all I’d learned. Did he even know that the Frythian had accused him? But the time was not right to tell him anything. As Aleksander stood beside his father’s body, his broad shoulders grew rigid. Curious, I slipped quietly to the edge of the marble block where I could get a broader view of the hall to see what had alerted him.
No unseemly disturbance or untimely intrusion had caused Aleksander’s tension, however, but his own act. Beneath his red and silver cloak, the Prince wore black breeches and a sleeveless shirt of embroidered red silk, and now he had used his father’s sword to cut three long gashes in his bare left arm. As I watched, he did the same to his right and began drawing circles about his eyes and on his cheeks with the blood. He had already forgotten I was there.
I withdrew into my niche, trying to convince myself that I could manage shifting form again. If I was going to stay through the night, then I might as well be useful and keep up my watch. And no non-Derzhi was going to get near Ivan’s funeral rites. As I sat there in the smoky dimness, trying to summon the will to shift, someone in soft slippers hurried across the vast room.
“Your Highness, the procession is engaged.” The gold-clad chamberlain dropped to his knees behind the Prince, whispering just loud enough to hear. “The bearers await your command ...”
Aleksander, eyes fixed on his father’s body, gave a slight nod. But the chamberlain did not go.
“... and, Your Highness, please forgive me for carrying any other message than those required by this most mortal ... most dreadfully grievous ... and I would not speak it if not commanded by my lord High Chamberlain, who was himself commanded by His Highness, who waits outside ... demanding ... insisting ... most kind lord that he is—”
I winced. The servant’s craven, crawling stuttering was just the quality to put an edgy man violently out of humor. And Aleksander was a very edgy man. The Prince did not raise his voice, but might have bitten the words out of the stone floor. “Speak or I’ll rip out your useless tongue.”
“I am bade to tell you that His Highness, Prince Edik, has arrived in Zhagad and says he must see his beloved Emperor and cousin laid out before the rites begin.”
Before Aleksander could answer, a clattering of boots and un-muted
But the Prince had been tired and angry and headstrong as always. “You weren’t given a day.”
He glanced up sharply. “No. It’s only my neck they want. Murdering my father as well is not going to get them anything. We don’t do things that way. Until I have a son, my heir is my father’s cousin Edik, a puling coward who makes me look scholarly and temperate. But the rest of the Denischkar would fight for him anyway, and the other hegeds would never allow old Hamrasch to say who sits the throne. It would be the end of the Hamraschi; the entire heged would die.”
But of course that was the very problem. Clearly the Hamraschi didn’t care if they died. What in the name of the gods had Aleksander done to raise a kanavar from one of the most powerful Derzhi families?
From outside the room came the droning of a mellanghar and a powerful male voice beginning the Derzhi mourning song, a winding, wordless lament that could make a mountain weep. Rage drained from the Prince’s face. He shook his head slightly and waved his hand, as if to silence his own thoughts, and then got slowly to his feet, turning his back to me. “I’ll be occupied until dawn. Come to my apartments then and we’ll talk. Be discreet, Seyonne. I’d not lose you, too.”
“My lord, I need to go ...” I’d not yet told him all I’d learned. Did he even know that the Frythian had accused him? But the time was not right to tell him anything. As Aleksander stood beside his father’s body, his broad shoulders grew rigid. Curious, I slipped quietly to the edge of the marble block where I could get a broader view of the hall to see what had alerted him.
No unseemly disturbance or untimely intrusion had caused Aleksander’s tension, however, but his own act. Beneath his red and silver cloak, the Prince wore black breeches and a sleeveless shirt of embroidered red silk, and now he had used his father’s sword to cut three long gashes in his bare left arm. As I watched, he did the same to his right and began drawing circles about his eyes and on his cheeks with the blood. He had already forgotten I was there.
I withdrew into my niche, trying to convince myself that I could manage shifting form again. If I was going to stay through the night, then I might as well be useful and keep up my watch. And no non-Derzhi was going to get near Ivan’s funeral rites. As I sat there in the smoky dimness, trying to summon the will to shift, someone in soft slippers hurried across the vast room.
“Your Highness, the procession is engaged.” The gold-clad chamberlain dropped to his knees behind the Prince, whispering just loud enough to hear. “The bearers await your command ...”
Aleksander, eyes fixed on his father’s body, gave a slight nod. But the chamberlain did not go.
“... and, Your Highness, please forgive me for carrying any other message than those required by this most mortal ... most dreadfully grievous ... and I would not speak it if not commanded by my lord High Chamberlain, who was himself commanded by His Highness, who waits outside ... demanding ... insisting ... most kind lord that he is—”
I winced. The servant’s craven, crawling stuttering was just the quality to put an edgy man violently out of humor. And Aleksander was a very edgy man. The Prince did not raise his voice, but might have bitten the words out of the stone floor. “Speak or I’ll rip out your useless tongue.”
“I am bade to tell you that His Highness, Prince Edik, has arrived in Zhagad and says he must see his beloved Emperor and cousin laid out before the rites begin.”
Before Aleksander could answer, a clattering of boots and un-muted
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